Harry found that he was confused.

As he stood on the corridor overlooking the school grounds, he felt horrible and almost hopeless because he couldn't seem to figure out so many things in his life. Here he was, the boy who everyone called 'The Chosen One' and the so called 'Chosen One' couldn't even get his love life together because he had no clue as to what love was to him.

Briefly, he saw in his mind, Cho standing before him, then he leaned forward and their lips met and it wasn't what he HAD expected it to be nor feel like. He was kissing her and she was kissing him back and he felt as if he was kissing a brick wall or his pillow in addition to her face being wet from crying. Harry couldn't even have reached up and held her face because it was as if nothing had happened.

Gripping on to the rails, he lifted a foot up and rested it on a bar, then leant down, his head propped on his hand. Reaching into his pants pocket, he fingered the bit of parchment within and then slipped it out. As he unfolded it before him, he wanted to let it slip out from his hand and down, down to the grass below. But then someone would find it and maybe notice his writing and expose his deep secret. He slowly unfolded the parchment and his eyes glazed over his handwriting, maybe for the twentieth time that day and he closed his eyes tightly then opened them again, staring at the page before him.

'If I could honestly tell you how I feel, it would feel as if a great weight was lifted off of my chest and then I could breathe again. The very idea that you exist is painful to me, you confuse me and I don't know how I feel about you and why I feel this way about you.

Most times I hate you and can't stand to see you around nor in front of me and I could feel this deep anger building up inside of me as I try to fight back a snide remark to utter to you as you humiliate or insult me. Sometimes when you pass next to me in class, my hand would slip and I'd take the wrong measure of an ingredient to which you would find pleasure in and empty my cauldron with a flick of your wand. Then you'd remark in your low curt and sarcastic voice that I had gotten yet another zero.

Then there are those times when I can't stop thinking about you. I can't stop allowing my mind to wander to your face and your attitude as well as everything else about you. The pale face and hands everyone snidely remark on and the black robes Ron points out that makes you look more like a git. How your hands, your fingers would gracefully hold onto either end of your robe and you'd fold your arms so smoothly and perfect, as if you had rehearsed it before. The way your eyes would flick and wander to me as you talk or take points from my house.

Then there are the times when you'd pass my desk and your robe would graze my desk, my hand, and it would feel as if you were touching me and my hand would tingle with some sensation I can't even begin to understand.

I don't know but I think I love you.



Harry folded the parchment quickly and turned around, his face slightly flushed, his hands beginning to tremble as he looked directly at Severus Snape. There he was standing there with his hands folded as usual and his eyes were observing Harry, from his light blue tee shirt to his blue jeans then his eyes found the parchment in Harry's hand and they narrowed suspiciously. Harry could have told from beforehand that Snape would ask after the parchment and he tried to slide it back into his pocket but...

'What's that Potter?' Snape asked curtly, his eyes still narrowed as he looked at the letter then at Harry's face.

'Ah, a bit of parchment Sir', Harry said and managed to put it into his pocket.

'Might I ask why you are standing here on such a fine, sunny day without the company of your two friends?' he asked and bounced back lightly on his heels as his eyes were still fixed on Harry's.

Harry felt intimidated at that moment and this was probably the first time since he knew Snape that he felt extremely nervous and intimidated in his company. He wanted at that moment for someone to just walk by and interrupt them, say anything, do anything to take Snape's attention away from him, but no one came. Not even Luna came their way, skipping as usual.

'Getting a bit of fresh air Sir', Harry said in a small voice then cleared his throat and added; 'Hermione and Ron are in the common room.'

'So why are you not with them?' Snape asked still eyeing Harry's pocket: the one that had the parchment inside. Harry absentmindedly patted his pocket just to make sure the letter was there.

'I'm...I needed some time alone Sir...'

'It's amazing', Snape said before Harry could finish properly, 'how you tend to address me as Sir so willingly OUTSIDE the classroom yet you seem to be quite forgetful when you are in the classroom.'

Harry didn't know if he should answer or not because he didn't want to sound rude and for a moment he wanted to know why he suddenly cared about whether he sounded rude or not. It was these things that he did unconsciously that made him wonder what the hell was happening to him. Things like that always happened and at times he would realise it did minutes after.

'Who gave you the parchment, Potter?' he asked softly, 'one of your admirers or perhaps...a fan?' Snape asked in a sarcastic voice.

'No, Sir', Harry said becoming annoyed and was happy that his feelings were being restored to normal again.

'Oh do...let me see it', Snape said and Harry felt the inside of his chest become cold with fear, 'do let me read what they have to say about your...talents.'

And Harry saw that Snape stretched out a hand, waiting for him to take out the letter and give him. He didn't know what to do because believe it or not, he was willing to fight back Snape if he forced him to give him the letter. He reached into his other pocket and closed his hand around his wand. He was NOT going to give Snape that letter.

'Give it to me Potter', Snape urged in a cool voice and looked at him.

And there it came again, that sudden feeling that would make him see Snape differently. Harry looked at the man's hand outstretched still and observed his long fingers, his pale skin and his neatly trimmed nails. His eyes wandered to Snape's robes and imagined how it would feel between his fingers as he...

'Potter don't make me take it from you', Snape said and wriggled his fingers.

'Take it then', Harry said and honestly believed he had thought it to himself but realised that he had said it aloud.

'I'm sorry?' Snape asked looking at him confused.

'I said take it then', Harry said through his teeth and stared at Snape coldly. His feelings had suddenly switched from one way to the other.

'Are you being rude to me Potter?'

'Aren't you supposed to be used to it by now SIR', Harry mouthed back

He couldn't believe it but his emotions were getting the worst of him out at the wrong time and at any time Snape would give him detention or take points from his house like he usually did. But Harry didn't care, in fact he felt so angry and so confused at the same time as to why he was feeling that way that he wasn't even thinking before he spoke, nor did he seem to have any control over his tongue.

But instead of Snape insulting him or doing what he had expected, the man just looked down at him.

'What is wrong with you?' he asked and it seemed to pain him that he sounded like if he cared about the boy.

Harry just stared down at his shoes.

'Potter...answer me.'

'I don't have to answer you', Harry said now looking at Snape.

'Detention Potter and fifty points from Gryffindor, for your cheek', Snape said finally and Harry actually smiled.

'Do you think I care? Honestly, do you think I care if you take points or give me detention?' Harry said through his gritted teeth, 'I'm fed up of you hating me at every opportunity you get!'

'Potter I...'

'Why don't you just tell me to my face that you hate me? Why don't you just calculate how many points you want to take from my house for every day I'd cheek you and then put me on detention every single day? Bet you'd enjoy that wouldn't you?' Harry said in a rush and could feel tears burning behind his eyelids, frustrated tears, and there was a tight lump in his throat as he tried not to allow his voice to break.

'Potter, I...'

'Hate me. Is that it?' Harry asked, 'well guess what Professor Snape, I hate you too!'

And he just stood there feeling as if he could brave it to walk away and not even care what Snape would do to him.

'Allow me to speak Potter', Snape said quietly.

'Go ahead SIR', Harry urged, sarcastically.

'Give me that parchment', he said again and Harry didn't move but just stood looking over Snape's right shoulder, 'it is obviously the source of all this anger.'

'I'm not giving it to you.'

And before Harry could say anything more, Snape stepped forward and braced Harry towards the railing, their bodies pressed against each other. He reached out and placed his hand on Harry's pocket: the one with the letter inside, and attempted to slide his fingers in when Harry reached down and held unto Snape's hand. For a moment, just a moment, Harry could smell Snape's perfume, a strong scent that he couldn't recognise and he could smell his hair as well. The scent of Snape invaded his nostrils and he could feel himself, for the first time, becoming so deeply aroused by the man that when a certain part acted on its own accord, Harry hoped that Snape couldn't feel it.

'What are you doing?' Snape demanded but not in a loud voice, he almost whispered it. 'Take your hand off of mine, Potter.'

But Harry's hand remained where it was, preventing Snape from getting inside his pocket. The man seemed to not want to force his hand inside the boy's pocket because he didn't and Harry still held unto his hand.

'No', Harry said in a low voice and bit by bit, he braved it to step even closer to Snape, so that their bodies were now against each other firmly. Taking Snape's hand, he slowly entwined his fingers with his and then using his other hand, he took Snape's other hand, then gently rubbed the man's fingers, and his palm.

'Stop that!' Snape demanded this time harshly and pulled his hands away from Harry then stepped back, 'what sort of game is this Potter?'

Harry was burning up and he couldn't stop himself now that he had started to awaken that feeling inside of him that was dying to get out. However, he wasn't sure of what he was doing, neither was he certain of what he was thinking. All he knew for sure was that he wanted to be close to Snape and he wanted to touch him and...he noticed that Snape was looking at him, studying him.

'What is wrong with you?' Snape asked but not in a harsh voice this time, but a soft, careful one.

'Everything', Harry said.

'Everything like what? What is bothering you like this Potter?' and he lightly rested his fingers against Harry's forehead as if to take his temperature.

(Snape of course knew exactly what had just occurred but he was pretending to not notice. He was too at a loss for words to even believe Harry had just barely attempted to be intimate with him. It couldn't be!)

'Have you been trying to clear your mind from the Dark Lord like I told you to?' he asked taking his hand away from Harry's forehead.


(Notice now that Harry has ceased to address Snape as 'Sir' yet Snape doesn't even show concern or anger at such a move by Harry.)

'I told you that you have to do so. He will attempt to...'

'I'm not concerned about him right now', Harry said cutting him off, 'he's not what's bothering me.'

'Then what IS bothering you?'

Harry looked right into Snape's eyes and then away, his eyes registering frustration. 'You', he said.

'Me?' Snape asked then a smile played on his lips, 'I'd like to believe that I shouldn't be a factor to consider since I seem to be bothering you all the time don't I? And after all, one can't seem to not allow the source of their hate to NOT bother them can they?'

'Stop it', Harry said and his voice was now cracking up, 'just leave me alone!' and he started to walk away.

He couldn't understand why he was feeling so out of order today, in fact, he felt so emotional and easily angered that he was beginning to become worried.

(Many of you will say that Harry is out of character but I'm trying to bring out another side of Harry that many of you will not believe is possible. You see this is a story made up by me so back off saying 'Harry is OOC!)

But Snape suddenly grabbed his arm and stopped him. They stared at each other for a few seconds, then Snape stepped up to him. Harry reached out and held his hand lightly then Snape entwined their fingers and pulled Harry towards him.

'I don't believe this, Potter', he said in a low voice.

'Neither do I, trust me, I don't want it to be but...'

'Don't want what to be?' Snape asked and tried to appear as if he didn't know what Harry was referring to.

And when Harry didn't answer him, Snape slid his hand into Harry's pocket neatly and extracted the parchment before the boy could even register what was happening.

'Don't read that', Harry urged, but Snape just flicked him a glance then unfolded the letter.

As his eyes moved over the lines, he seemed to not show any emotion at first then he reread it and felt his face colour. Harry, he thought to himself and he realised that he couldn't look at the boy at all. Harry Potter was gay? It couldn't be because he didn't seem so, he didn't...

'Harry, are you?' Snape began the question but didn't want to say the word. He was never comfortable with saying the word.

'I don't...I don't know what I am', Harry said, 'I like girls but you...you make me feel...'

'Feel how?' Snape asked after Harry had paused a bit.

'Can't you see that in what I wrote?'

'Yes but I want you to say it to me, to my face', Snape said softly and Harry honestly could have believed Snape was playing him, wanting him to say something that he could prey on later.

'You want to use it against me don't you?' Harry snapped, 'you want me to say whatever so you can have it in your memories and then show whoever you want to make me a fool, humiliate me!'

'No!' Snape exclaimed and then when he realised he had shouted, he calmed himself and repeated what he had said in a softer tone.

'Why do you even care? You hate me nevertheless so it wouldn't matter to you anyway.'

'There is a reason I hated you', Snape said.

'Hated?' Harry asked, wondering why he was using the past tense.

'Yes, hated', Snape repeated, 'I hated you because you look like HIM, your father, and well, you know the rest. But you're nothing like him. You're not conceited and arrogant nor self centred as he was.'

'I'm not?' Harry asked, fully surprised, 'but you constantly would remind me of how I was so much like him!'

'To annoy you. My own way of finding humour in seeing you angry.'

'How funny!' Harry exclaimed sarcastically.

'I'm sorry', Snape said smiling then when he saw Harry was beginning to anger again, he took his hand and squeezed it, 'I need to tell you something but first, I want you to answer one question for me.'

'What's that?' Harry asked.

'I need you to tell me why in God's name would you write something like this and keep it in your pocket just like that, with MY initials at the bottom. Suppose Malfoy or perhaps your two friends happen to snatch it from your possession?'

'I don't really care', Harry said and sighed.

'You don't...care?'

'No! Do you think I'm enjoying this? I'm fed up of feeling this way!'

'So am I', Snape said.


'You heard me. I don't find pleasure in repeating myself'.


'Can I touch you?' Snape asked softly and so sudden that Harry's mouth opened slightly with shock.

'Now? Out here?' he asked and found that it was becoming difficult to breath.

'Didn't you attempt to do just that minutes ago, right HERE?' and before Harry could even think it through, Snape reached out and lightly caressed his cheek, then neatly moved his hair away from his forehead.

Harry couldn't believe what was happening, although he wanted just that to happen, he never would have expected Snape to react like that. Then Snape did something Harry found a bit odd and amusing at the same time. He took Harry's invisibility cloak from his robe, and Harry wanted to know how he knew it was there, then he flapped it open and threw it over the two of them. Harry didn't expect it but even Snape's feet were covered! He wanted to know how in the world that was possible since even at times, he, Ron and Hermione couldn't even fit under the cloak! Ron was so tall now, he could have bet not even his feet would be covered.

'How did you...?' Harry begun to ask, looking down but before he could continue, Snape pulled him closer and their bodies met again. This time however, both of them felt each other against the other, that part that allowed itself to become fully aware of the feelings each had for the other. Harry flushed a bit because he was self conscious of that fact.

'I'm not sure we should...' Harry pressed on and felt like a fool actually saying that because he wanted nothing more than for Snape to touch him, 'I don't know what to do...'

Snape took his right hand and guided it down, 'explore me'.

And Harry couldn't take it anymore, he reached forward and locked Snape in a kiss so deep, at first, it seemed to throw both of them out of breath before they could pull away. Then Snape couldn't take it anymore as well, so he crushed his lips on Harry's and they kissed hungrily for a while or two, their hands in each other's hair, on each other's face, feeling each other's body.

'We...' Harry whispered, pulling away, 'we could get caught.'

'Quick then', Snape urged taking off the cloak after looking around, 'to my office.'

And both of them hurried off, one following the other who had minutes before, wanted nothing more than for his least favourite teacher to touch and caress him. However, none of them noticed someone watching in the shadows, right around a small corner near a staircase. Harry nor Snape saw a certain boy with blond hair peeking out, angrily from behind a boulder, observing them.

Malfoy got up, brushed off his robe and stalked off filled with jealousy, wondering what Snape found in Harry that he couldn't find in him.

'After all these years', he muttered as he stalked off, 'why the arrogant, self centred, conceited bitch!' and he made off towards a destination unknown.